The big day
by Ruka Jaganshi
Summary: It's Haruka's wedding day, which she'd spend in complete tranquility, would the girls not intrude to screw up her mind with their fuss. And then the bridegroom goes missing from the altar. She sets off to bring him back, and God help those who stand in her way.
1. Chapter 1

**The big day**

Haruka let out an irritated groan and buried her head into the pillow, intending to disappear from the world this way for the next few hours. Her calculations proved to be wrong, however, as the doorbell kept on destroying her attempts. Since she dreaded what she suspected to linger before the main entrance, she tactically pretended not to be home, creeping out of bed into the toilet amidst the rhythmical ringing noise without drawing the curtains and letting sunshine into the flat.

When she re-emerged, still somewhat drowsy, a kind of victorious giggles were going on outside. And then she heard the clinking of keys, right in the completely private lock of her completely private door.

For the first time in this life, she started doubting the beneficial nature of peaceful break-ups - more precisely, her negligence of asking Michiru for the house keys back then, when their close-knit relationship faded gracefully into friendship, and she moved away. A friend of hers had said back then: _those who claim to have split up in peace are either liars or thieves._ In Michiru's case, she probably just found it entertaining to watch her struggle against Usagi's overexcited friend circle. She's always had this subtly malicious kind of humour sense anyway. But not with Haruka as the victim, not so far; and nor shall it happen this time.

Thinking swiftly, the windsenshi decided to escape through the back window; as a senshi, she should have no trouble jumping on the nearby oak tree and get away on rooftops. She grabbed her trainers from the hall; the entrance door was already opening while she stormed back into the bedroom that faced the opposite side of the flat, almost too late.

Her bad decision was to take a few seconds to grab a pair of jeans from the wardrobe; it was mid-summer, she could easily have shown up outside in her pyjama shorts.

One of her legs was dangling out of the window when Minako burst into the room.

"Rise and shine, main attraction of the day!" she yelled merrily. "We've got tons to do before the big ceremony! What are you doing?"

"Opening the window, obviously," Haruka growled while climbing back in and throwing the clothes on the chair.

"That's great, fresh air is good for the sleep-deprived skin and the nervous stomach," confirmed the young goddess of love.

"Have you had breakfast?" asked Usagi's head popping in through the door.

"Was just about to," answered the windsenshi with resignation, earning an excited squeal from the princess.

"I'm setting right out to explore the kitchen area for the right food."

"Please don't cook anything," Haruka yelled after her while ushering Minako out, voicing her desire to change into daylight attire alone.

According to her idea, Haruka would have felt completely tranquil during most of the day. She'd have a good breakfast, go on a motorbike ride, dine somewhere in the outskirts while staring at the scenery. Then she'd head back, pick up the dress on the way, return home with the giant dress sack folded into the trunk (the thin-designed white dress with just a hint of teal shade was full of frills anyway, crumples wouldn't have made a visible difference - she'd just have to be quick to hop on her bike and ride away before the shop assistants run out to stop the atrocity). So she would put on the dress at home, perhaps some make-up, and she'd be ready just at the right minute for the car sent for her. That's the point where she had planned to freak out first.

In comparison, the morning went by in a crazy rush, with all eight other senshi swirling around her, and their frantic worries and worst-scenario preparations soon caused Haruka to be on pins and needles. She had never realised that rogue locks in her hair were this important, or that the shape of her nails could influence the mood of her soon-to-be husband. Speaking of the latter, she needed to talk to him right now, for comfort. The request was denied. Her! In her own flat, with her own phone! But she wasn't left time to speak her mind about it, the hair was still to be disciplined, the eye contour shaped, the shoes adjusted. Secretly, she thanked the Heavens that she hadn't let the girls persuade her about the high heels.

Mamoru-san had received the honour of delivering the bride to the church. Why she wasn't allowed to drive there herself, Haruka never understood. She sulked on the back seat next to Michiru clutching her hand in silent excitement; she examined the intricate golden decorations on her nails, wondering if they were really capable of putting her fiancé in the right "mood". In fact, she just started questioning whether this whole fuss would put him in the right mood. When she had looked in the mirror a moment before she was dragged out and tucked into the car in a hurry, she didn't quite recognize herself - so how would _he_ know which of the brightly dressed ladies he should smile at from the altar? She was turned into a _woman_ , like any other ones on their happiest days. Although she knew Seiya's orientation, somehow she doubted that this was the form in which he had fallen in love with her.

By the time the car pulled up in front of the church, her ankles felt so wobbly she thought they wouldn't hold the weight of all these frills. But they did, and she climbed out of the vehicle without help. Some lights flashed from a few private cameras and a single professional one; a fortune was spent on keeping the occasion secret from the paparazzi. But something was still wrong. The well-dressed crowd stared at her in dismay, as if she had just arrived from space. Was it the nails? Had she already smudged the damn eyeliner? Did they see through her skirt and noticed that slipping strap on her shoe? What was it?

"Go, go, go," Michiru urged her quietly while stuffing a bouquet of calla lilies in her hand and pushing on her back. So she trod towards the church entrance on the path opened up for her among the whispering people, until she saw Taiki and Yaten hurry towards her (instead of standing next to their brother inside), their expression glum. When they met, Yaten only swept through his hair in irritation, while Taiki guided the windsenshi into an unoccupied corner.

"Seiya's gone," he muttered.

"What? Where?" she burst out with a day's tension.

"We don't know for now, he went to use the restroom a while ago, but he's not there."

"How could you let him go at such a crucial time?" Michiru scolded him as she arrived among them. "You can't leave wedding couples alone right before the occasion, they easily get cold feet. What do you think best men and bridesmaids are for?"

"I'll go find that measly quitter," Haruka spat as she turned around and headed back to the car, not listening to the others' pleads to stop her. Mamoru, occupied by his own fiancé's swooning, reacted too late as the bride slid into the driver's seat behind him; even Michiru and the two popstars barely had time to hop in beside her before she gave gas.

"I'm fine on my own, you know. I'm running after my man, not away from him," Haruka notified them while speeding on the highway.

"That's exactly why we need to watch over you, darling," Michiru caressed her bare upper arm.

"What's your plan?" Yaten inquired from the back seat.

"Home," replied the windsenshi briefly.

The eloper wasn't home. However, while they were looking through each room, Michiru received a phone call from the girls: someone had seen the groom being seized and dragged into a cup ramen van.

"No!" Taiki burst out.

"The ramen girl!" Yaten cried.

Haruka looked at them with interest, so the brunette explained.

"Her father is the owner of the biggest cup ramen factory in the country, and she herself is a Three Lights fangirl of the rabid kind. More exactly, she has a fixation on Seiya. She's already been banned from concerts, but she manages to buy her way in now and then, causing trouble for both fans and guards."

"And why didn't I know about her?" inquired the windsenshi curiously.

"It would take all week to list every crazy fan we have," Yaten enlightened her.

"She's bad news, but at least we know now where he is." Taiki pointed out comfortingly.

"And that he isn't escaping from you," Michiru smiled at her.

"Yeah, that's good news, too," confirmed the brunette with disinterest. "Police is already on her, so we know where to go."

"Let's head out then, so the guests don't have to wait too long," Haruka said and hurried out.

"We might need a plan first," Taiki attempted to reason while the trio ran after the flowing frills of the dress.

"We'll make it in the car," came the answer.

Forging the plan was all for naught, though. When they crouched in the nearby foliage in the scorching sunset, staring at the rich mansion surrounded by a football field's worth of front garden and an army of living and mechanical guards, Haruka didn't remain patient for long.

"This is ridiculous, I'm heading in," she pointed out, ceaselessly working on freeing her frills from intrusive twigs and leaves.

"Are you crazy?" Yaten shrieked. "These guys are as influential as the mafia, you'll be obliterated without a second thought!"

"You forget that we're all senshi," she argued.

"Even a senshi dies when a bullet splatters her brain," Taiki noted.

"Thanks for the graphic illustration of my point," Yaten spat at him.

"We don't have time for this, let's go," Haruka hissed.

"At least let's decide on a route and some meeting points," Michiru suggested. "Otherwise we'll just run in blindly and get shot down one by one."

"I don't care! I'm not going through this fuss again. I'm getting married before the end of the day, and that's that!" Haruka snapped, and with the last word, she kicked herself away from the branch. Like some stray daylight ghost, she flew through the trees to disappear behind the sturdy brick wall.

 _TBC (possibly maybe not)_


	2. Chapter 2

The bride huffed in irritation as the bullets whistled past her, some tearing at the ash tree she had hidden behind, others punching through the flowing dress, her main hindrance, her curse, her reason for never being able to sneak past guards unnoticed. She was close to the point where she would just throw the whole thing off and run on in her underwear. But the clothing was an essential part of the day as the only socially accepted attire for saying ' _I do_ '; and it also made her a difficult target, practically impossible to hit while she was nimbling about with the chaotic whiteness of frills and skirt swirling around her.

All in all, she could not afford leaving the dress here, only to have it be found and taken hostage to blackmail her with it.

When she reached this point at her swift planning, the rattling of the guns stopped unexpectedly. In the ringing silence, distant sounds hit her ears, which quickly shot a new dose of adrenaline into her blood flow.

"You dirty bastards," she hissed and sprinted into the opposite direction.

She comforted herself with the thought that she'd been bored with winning all races against humans anyway; she'd been craving for a new challenge, and here it was. She might want to be careful about her wishes from now on.

It was the dress' fault again, making it impossible to fly on her long legs without tangling into the pure material at every step. She had no time to glean up the folds into her arms either, because six Dobermans were already closing in on her with great, noisy fervour.

She wondered what Doberman flesh tasted like. What spices did it go with? Was it to be consumed roasted, boiled, or perhaps raw, marinated? She might just find out today, because when she got her man out of here, these monsters were going to be served to the wedding guests as a special treat of apology.

For now, however, the beasts were ignorant about their fate; in fact, they seemed to believe it would happen the other way round, and positivity was always a great motivator. So much so that Haruka saw no other way out than climbing up a tree. Dogs couldn't climb trees, could they? Or was that about bears?

This time, it was her pride. She admitted defeat too late, let the vile creatures too close. The moment she skipped up to reach the lowest branch of an ash tree, several of them jumped after her and caught the flowing whiteness in the deathly grasp of their jaws. Some fell back instantly when the frills in their captivity tore under their weight, but two of them had a better grip on the skirt, and they held onto it amongst victorious snarls, all four limbs scraping the tree's crust in an attempt to follow the windsenshi into the heights.

Speaking of her, she had hooked her elbow over the branch and was holding onto it for the dear life of these mindless beings, because if she had fallen down among them, she would definitely have destroyed them in her savage pain over the tearing dress. But again, if she had fallen, the clothing would have remained intact, and she would also have saved time instead of hunting down the special wedding course later. But maybe the additional meal itself was a waste of time anyway; the sun had almost completely set by now...

She was jerked out of her musing when two other dogs managed to hang themselves on the dress.

"No!" she yelped in dismay, her arm starting to slip off the branch. "Down, boys! Shoo!"

Her rigour went unheeded. Meanwhile, however, she propped her foot against the trunk, easing the weight a little. Her trained muscles were able to save her for a short period, but not so the delicate fabric with the dangling canine decorations. She had to make the obvious choice, and quickly; not only because postponing it would only have increased the bleeding of her heart.

"I'm... getting... married today," she groaned from the effort as she jerked herself free from the killer jaws locked on her foaming skirt, letting the not-so-white fabric tear along a self-proclaimed line, most of it falling to the ground with the beasts. She lulled herself with the thought that surely all these superfluous flossy things on the dress would hide it if the skirt was stitched back on. Her fiancé wouldn't even notice, his _mood_ would remain exactly the desired shade, whatever that meant. All she needed was to find thread and needle in this enormous villa when all was dead. _Set_ , that is. _Set_ was enough, no need to go unnecessary lengths when time was pressing.

Nimbly from the suddenly lessened weight, she climbed higher in the foliage, and then she crouched down to catch her breath. She stared at the last disappearing patch of the sun, meanwhile apprehending the guards that arrived jogging under the tree. The evening breeze caressed her bare thighs pleasantly, but then it dried her sweat into a sticky, much annoying layer all over her body. A shower could have come handy before the wedding jamboree, too. This house surely had a few as well. Hail general human civilisation.

She was dismayed to notice that one of her shoulder straps had torn during her climbing exercise, baring her shoulder, hanging limp over her chest. Cursing between her teeth, she took it between her fingers to examine if it could be fixed quickly.

As she looked down at it, she just noticed that several guards, the ones who weren't busy restraining the dogs, pointed their machine guns upward. At her.

She didn't fear death, she knew she wouldn't die until she had bestowed justice on the spoiled little princess that thought she'd win Seiya's heart through money and force. Apart from this aristocratic fort, the entire Universe was on her side: it wouldn't, couldn't have the courage to stand up against her in her current state.

She shot out from the branch towards the next tree the moment the guns started to rattle. She repeated the notion several times with the rain of bullets vibrating in the air at her heel, meanwhile rethinking the wedding meal plans: guard meat was not only more abundant but also much more tender, and thus probably easier to prepare. Though not much brain was there for broiling, the chest and shoulder areas made up for it. Perhaps some guts and eyeballs as garnish. _Entrailles en sauce au beurre_. Perfect finish for leaving an impression.

Even if the house was on the enemy team, she found herself breathing gratitude when a small, open awning window offered itself, since she was on the verge of believing that these savages would actually shoot her down from the heights. After her eagle eyes detected the opportunity, she was already there with two long leaps, and with a skilfully directed third one, she flew in the window head first.

Her flight got broken, and painfully.

"What the frickin' kind of trickery is this?" she burst out in disbelief as she grasped the highly impossible situation: she had gotten stuck halfway into the house. That her arms were free didn't comfort her; where her shoulders easily fit, her rear couldn't get through. It was black magic, or some witty trap, no doubt. Her figure was impeccable, that's all she knew for certain.

She enhanced her mental to-do list with destroying this house. Burning it down was too easy, she decided to wreck it brick by brick instead, slowly and torturously.

While attempting several escape methods from force to wiggling, she recognised she was in a dark bathroom, possibly where she'd take her shower later (and then find a mallet sturdy enough to break walls). Meanwhile, she heard footsteps stride closer on the gravel in a comfortable pace, and men's laughter, whistles, dirty offers and comments were heard. Were they speaking to her? Laughing at her? And her butt was freezing in the evening chill, too. The remains of her dress flapped around her leg on one side and barely reached her thigh on the other.

When she finally did the math, puzzling out the masculine jokes and the freezing, an astonished gasp left her lips.

Yep, she would burn down the house, after all. With these chauvinists in it, alive and conscious.

Fortunately, it was a second floor bathroom, high enough not to be reached from the ground. But again, the well-trained guards quickly regained control over their lower urges and got back to their duty.

"Well, babe," said one leisurely. "It's time to hole your amazing bum now, and as much as I'd like to do it myself, my gun will have to do the job instead. It's really a waste, though."

His colleagues guffawed along in a disharmonious choir.

 _Shitshitshitshitshitshit_ , chanted Haruka's mind while the vehemence of her escape attempts increased. Curse the uncooperative butt! She would get married today, no matter what. And if she got out of here, she'd never again start meals with the dessert. Moreover, she'd never have dessert at all. What dessert? From now on, she wouldn't eat anything but vegetables. Without mayo!

She pushed herself forward with renewed strength induced by the closeness of death, not heeding the pain that numbed her lower areas; her twists and moans competed that of a dying cockatoo. No wonder it was heard in the neighbouring rooms.

Firm knocking was heard on the door.

"Who's in there?" demanded a dutiful voice.

Haruka couldn't care less for being discovered right now, perhaps exactly that's why she had a risky idea.

"Who would it be?" she yelled back, never ceasing to struggle. "The lordess of this mansion, you doofus!"

There was a moment's silence, then a different voice said with some more reverence:

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but given the current circumstances, we'll have to confirm your identity."

"Fine, do that!" she sneered. "Break in on the constipated aristocrat, if you dare!"

She groaned from the depth of her heart as she hurried to squeeze through the window; she was almost through!

"Watch out, she'll escape before you finish her!" shouted a guard on her bottom's side.

"Alright, Ma'am, we'll be waiting nearby," said one of the inside voices meanwhile.

She didn't have time to respond, because she suddenly popped through the window, and her body hit the ground with a thundering crash. The late rattling of the gun minced up the windowsill, sending rubble inside over her head. Then the gun fell silent, and enraged shouting replaced it, growing farther away among running footsteps.

"Ma'am, is everything all right?" inquired the voice from inside again.

"I'm fine! Go mind your own business!" she snapped back in irritation while seeking balance to pull her numb legs under herself.

Shaking dust out of her hair and finally clambering up, she felt her aching hip around for bruises. There was nothing serious, apart from a waist-high slit on both sides of the dress, nothing like a little cut that could have been hidden from Seiya with a flower shaped pin.

She only spent a breath's time mourning over it; then she jerked the dress into place with an expression darker than a moonless night. Did these superfluous details really matter so much to him? Then why wasn't _he_ the one running for _her_ life, battling merciless beasts and presumptuous apes, crawling though rabbit holes, tricking baboons? She wanted to see how he'd have kept his pitch dark tuxedo unsmudged.

Rage over this injustice of the Universe giving her another surge of strength, she stormed to the door and tore it open, bracing her bare hands to kill.

 _TBC (maaaybe)_


End file.
